“Yeah? What’s a neutralizer?”
“It’s stuff that would kill the gas fumes if you had it ready. They used neutralizers in gas masks over in France. A gas mask ain’t just a bag that you put over your head. It’s got a nozzle that you put chemical in; but you’ve got to have the right stuff.”
“You mean that Lagwood may have doped out the stuff we want?”
“You bet I do. For his vapor treatment. But he’s quit that. Here it is — this thing that he crossed off the list. Neut. That’s short for neutralizer. There’s a gallon of it down in the cellar of that drug store.”
“And you’ve got a lot of funny looking gas masks over in the hideout!”
“Yeah, just waiting for the right stuff to go in them. Listen. Here’s Skeet’s job. He’s got to crack that drug store, see? It’s a one man job. Nobody’ll get him if he hits a cellar window. Tell him to find that gallon jug with the green stuff. Bring it to the hideout. Then we’re set. That is, if the stuff works.”
“You mean that we’ll be able to follow in after we heave the gas bombs that we swiped from old Valdan?”
“You guessed it. But we’re not going to work it too strong at first. I’ve got two jobs in mind. Not heavy, but plenty of swag if they’re worked right. And after that — well” — Wolf chuckled as he reached for a cigarette — “it’s anything, bo, up to the United States Mint.”
Spud Claxter sat staring from his chair. His shrewd brain was visioning the possibilities that the big shot had suggested. Wolf Barlan was leering, with his yellowish teeth displayed to their full. Then the big shot’s countenance changed. Wolf snarled an order.
“Scram,” he said to Spud. “Get to Skeet and give him the lay. Then start out and pick that mob you’ve been talking about. You know the gorillas you want. You’ve already got an inside crew. But we need some tough mugs for the outside.”
Spud lost no time. He was rising as he nodded his understanding. He turned toward the door and was halfway there before Wolf stopped him.
“Don’t get too cocky,” reminded the big shot. “Remember, this stuff is more important than those gas bombs. With that formula the boys swiped out of Valdan’s place, I can get more bombs made up after we’ve used the supply. But this neutralizer stuff is precious.
“It ought to work on account of a smart croaker like Lagwood figuring it out. But don’t forget, those masks will have to be loaded each time. Remember, the bottle’s made out of glass, and a clumsy guy can spill stuff when he’s pouring.
“Those masks don’t take much and a gallon will be plenty if we don’t waste it. But if it runs out, we can’t go around to the Talleyrand Hospital and send in our cards to Lagwood. We can’t say ‘Hello, doc. Got any more of that green neutralizer? We used up all we swiped.’ Do you get me, Spud?”
“I get you,” nodded the lieutenant.
“Well,” added Wolf, “tell Skeet it’ll be curtains for him if he busts the bottle. I’ve had guys put on the spot for a lot less.”
SPUD departed promptly after the final admonition. Wolf Barlan remained leering by the window. Then, with a chuckle, he reached for the telephone. The big shot was ready to proceed with crime.
Spud Claxter was the head of the strong-arm crew. But Wolf had other associates upon whom he depended. The big shot was wary when it came to mixing his affairs. He had already picked places for crime. He had been waiting only for the opportunity.
Confident, Wolf dialed a number. He chuckled as he heard the bell ring across the wire. This call was his first step. He was passing the news where it would be well received. He knew that this first recipient would be pleased to learn that Doctor Lagwood’s neutralizing preparation would be gained tonight by men of crime.
CHAPTER IX
AIDS OF THE SHADOW
SHORTLY before eight o’clock that evening, a young man of marked professional appearance made his exit from the portals of the Talleyrand Hospital. As he was descending the stone steps, he encountered an elderly man coming upward. The arrival paused and thrust out his hand to the young man.
“Rupert Sayre!” exclaimed the old man. “What are you doing in this bailiwick? Don’t tell me that you have joined the staff of the Talleyrand Hospital!”
“Hello, Doctor Derry,” responded the younger man. “I haven’t seen you since the year I graduated from medical school. No, I’m not on the Talleyrand staff. Just happened to drop in to see Freddy Lawson.”
“A fine physician, that young man,” nodded Doctor Derry. “I believe that Lawson will become the finest dermatologist that we have ever had in this institution. Well, well, Rupert. It is a pleasure to see you. Still engaged in general practice.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two men parted. Rupert Sayre walked along the street to an obscure spot and entered the driver’s side of a parked coupe. A low voice spoke from the darkness:
“Did you learn anything, Doc?”
“Yes,” replied Sayre. “I don’t know how important it is, Vincent; but it may be exactly what you are looking for. I had a long talk with Lawson; he spent an hour showing me around the place.”
“You saw the death sleep patients?”
“Yes. I did not meet Doctor Lagwood, however. But I remembered your request — to catch the details of any unusual incident. I learned of one that has reference to a new attendant.”
“What was it?”
“A fellow named Charles Dowther — at least that was the name he gave for himself — was given a job only a few days ago. It appears that several attendants were discharged for drunkenness quite recently. This man managed to gain employment without giving details of previous experience. Being short-handed, the institution was ready to take on almost anyone who applied.”
“I see.”
“Dowther was put to work moving wheel chairs and running errands. He worked on the floor where Doctor Lagwood’s laboratory is located and I believe that he must have been in a position to observe what was going on there. Well, Dowther held his job fine until this afternoon.”
“What happened then?”
“He let a wheel chair get away from him coming down a flight of stairs. First of all, he had no right with it there; he should have taken it down by elevator. As luck had it, the wheel chair bounced across the hallway and bowled over a plaster statue of Hermes — a life-sized object. To make matters worse, the statue fell upon a glass case that contained an architect’s model of the hospital building and smashed that beyond repair.”
“Was Dowther discharged?”
“No. That is the odd part about it. Since the matter appeared to be an accident, he was severely reprimanded for not obeying rules regarding wheel chairs in the elevator. But he apparently thought that he would be dismissed, for he returned late after going out to supper. He arrived only twenty minutes ago and he was creating a great scene. That was how Lawson happened to tell me all about him.”
“What was the matter with him?”
“Drunk. He came in through the attendants’ entrance and began to argue with everyone in sight. ‘Fire me will you? Who’s going to fire me? I’ll resign.’ That was the burden of his theme. So they were firing him when I left.”
“You mean he was still putting up an argument?”
“Yes. Refusing to take the pay that they were giving him. Said they could keep the money and buy another statue of a guy with wings on his derby hat.”
“It must have been funny, Doc.”
“It was, Vincent. Particularly because the man was faking intoxication.”
“You are sure?”
“Positively,” affirmed Sayre. “But I was the only person who detected it. Vincent, that fellow wanted to be fired” — the doctor paused to catch his companion’s arm — “watch there! By that lighted entrance. Here comes the chap now.”